


Poker Faces

by whatdoyouthinkmyjobis



Series: Hunters on the Hellmouth [8]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Plotty, Poker, Protective Sam Winchester, Protective Xander Harris, Research, Season Rewrite, Secrets, Showering Dean, Swooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7565680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis/pseuds/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy and Dean may have worked out their differences, but Sam and Xander are still worried about the secrets the other party holds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poker Faces

Dean woke when a pillow collided with his face.

His brother stood over him, lips pursed in disapproval. “Get up, Sleeping Beauty. It’s after ten. What happened to Mr. Lucky-To-Sleep-Four-Hours?”

_Ten?_

Sam’s thin brown bedspread was covered in notes and books. Three styrofoam coffee cups cluttered the nightstand. He’d clearly been up for hours, and Dean somehow managed to sleep through it.

Dean grumpily pulled the covers over his head and buried his face in the pillow. “It’s Sunday, man. I ain’t gettin’ up before noon.”

“Got a lot of ideas from Anya last night–”

“Sexy ideas?”

“Come on, man! It’s not like that.”

Dean _hrumphed_ but otherwise remained silent. Sam may not be ready to admit it, but he could recognize the flint of a crush in his little brother’s eye. 

“Anyway, she’s really knowledgeable about demons – well, Sunnydale-style demons because things still don’t line up with what we know. According to Anya, angels are a myth, something old demons tell new demons to scare them. Also there are demons who belong to a cult that worships the unnamed creator of demons, sort of the first demon. She didn’t know too much about the cult other than that they believe the rising of their Creator will literally unleash Hell on Earth and start a new empire of demon subjugation of humanity. Sound familiar?” 

Dean sat up on the edge of the bed and wearily rubbed his eyes. Despite the solid night’s sleep, he was barely following anything his brother, buzzed on caffeine and research, was saying.

Encouraged, Sam continued, “My research says there are lots of alternate dimensions. Almost all of them are far too hostile for a fragile human soul to move through. Most are populated entirely by demons – and, according to Anya, one only shrimp. We could actually be in a different dimension, but connected to ours through Hell.”

“Why do the demons look so different?”

Sam shrugged. “You know how things looked warped and have different colors when they’re underwater? Maybe it’s like that? Maybe they’re the same demons, but we’re seeing them through a different lens?”

“You talk too much, sunshine.” 

Dean wearily walked the ten paces from his hard motel bed to the cramped bathroom. Grabbing his toothbrush and toothpaste, he examined his body in the mirror. A week before ending up in Sunnydale, he and his brother had been shot at close range with a shotgun, killing them both; but with an angel on their side, they never stayed dead for long. Being freshly resurrected meant Dean’s lifestyle hadn’t had any time to rescar his body. The usual criss-cross of cuts on his forearms was missing. No burns on his chest or hands. No bullet holes, stab wounds, or bites. Even his crooked fingers were straight.

This morning, however, he had a small trail of mouth-sized bruises across his chest. He hoped Sam hadn’t noticed.

He stripped off his boxers and hopped in the shower, the lukewarm water barely above a trickle.

Judging by the moaning and delighted faces he’d coaxed out of her, Buffy had enjoyed last night. He’d certainly had a good time. A great time. With few see-ya-when-I-pass-through exceptions, even if the sex was mind-blowing, he rarely saw his partners more than one night. The longest he’d ever stayed with a hookup in one go was a four-day weekend. He was going to see Buffy for nearly another month, a long time to keep things casual. If she’d been honest last night, they could spend those weeks fucking and part on good terms. If she’d been lying (to him or herself), the sex wasn’t going to be enough. She’d want romance and feelings and – _oh God_ – honesty. All crap he didn’t do.

Dean rubbed the soapy washcloth over his balls, his hand lingering. Having had actual sex several times the night before, he didn’t feel the need to jerk off in the shower. With his brother being so alert this morning, that was probably a good thing. Thanks to the paper walls of quality motels, Sam gave him a hard time about it. Like he was never hard up.

He turned off the water and tried to dry off with the thin washcloth-sized towel the motel provided. It barely wrapped around him. _God, I look like a stripper at the Luxor_ , he thought. Tiny towel held up with one hand, he headed straight to the dresser. Underwear would have been the priority if it wasn’t for the hickeys. He hastily pulled on his last clean t-shirt and rifled around looking for some boxers.

“Good God, Dean! Put it away!”

“Hey, if you’re not going to admire my junk properly, you can just look somewhere else.”

Accepting defeat of a laundry day crisis, he gave up searching and settled for his sweatpants. Removing a stale donut from a bag by the TV, he plopped back on his bed, one arm behind his head.

“Anya have anything else to say?” he asked through a full mouth.

Lips pressed tight, Sam fixed a steady gaze on him. Dean thought he was going to chastise him for eating in bed when he said, “She’s not a fan of Buffy.”

He cocked an eyebrow and kept eating.

“Anya feels Buffy is careless and inconsistent, lets people get hurt. She said Buffy and her friends have routinely used people and tossed them aside when they don’t need them anymore.”

“But you trust Anya?” He tried to keep the accusation out of his voice.

“Not entirely, but what would lying about Buffy get her?”

“You got an example of this use-and-toss?”

“She told me about a couple of Buffy’s exes who used to help out in the battle of good versus evil until Buffy was done with them and kicked them out of town.”

Sam knew. He knew, and he disapproved. Dean kept his face calm as Sam stared at him waiting for a tell.

“Anything else?”

“You know their friend Willow who’s in England? She’s supposedly hiding out after killing someone, and everyone seems fine with that because she’s part of the gang.”

“Got any proof?”

“Well, no –”

“Then you don’t know it’s true.” Dean finished his donut, wiping his sticky fingers on his sweatpants.

“So, I guess you and Buffy worked out whatever you were fighting over.”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I already saw the hickeys, Dean. You said you were going to leave her alone.”

It was Dean’s turn to shoot dirty looks, and he was tired of Sam’s high horse on the subject. “I said I didn’t want to complicate things for her. Guess what? Buffy doesn’t think I’m a complication! She is more than happy to spend the next few weeks killing monsters and fucking. Stop actin’ like you know her.”

“You don’t know her either! She’s a complete black box to both of us. She’s a mystery with superpowers. Maybe you should practice a little caution! If we had gotten here by normal means and met someone with the abilities she has, we’d be hitting the books to make sure she’s okay.”

Dean jammed some clothes into his duffel. “What? So Buffy’s a _thing_ now? Another monster to hunt?”

“That’s not what I’m saying! Look, I like her, but let’s not lose our heads just because we’re in a weird place. I don’t want you on the Shit List of Exes, and I really don’t want us killed by a vigilante with a God-complex.”

“That ain’t happening, okay? Enjoy jerkin’ off with your books. I got laundry to do.”

* * *

 

Buffy sat on the steps of her back porch enjoying a bowl of breakfast rocky road. Here and there, the sun poked through the trees and tickled her skin. The laughter of children several houses down floated to her on the breeze. Everyone was trying to squeeze the last bit of life out of summer. 

A grin broke across her face. Dean had squeezed and sucked and rubbed quiet a bit of life last night. She had expected some good, rough sex at the hands of the hunter. Instead, he was into long, sensual foreplay. He lit her senses on fire first, drawing it out until she almost begged him. She’d never been so wound up and pleased all at once.

Mr. Tickles just wouldn’t cut it anymore.

Much as she wanted to keep their playtime between them, their lives were too tangled up with other people to worry about keeping unnecessary secrets. Planning her words carefully and measuring her time with her food, she called when the bowl was empty. “Hey, Xander! How are you feeling?”

“My head feels like less of a soccer ball, but my bruises are introducing me to new shades of purple. Mostly, my ego is sore. I’m so sorry, Buff. Is Dawn okay?”

“We had ice cream time yesterday. Her head hurts, but she’s hard to rattle. You don’t need to be sorry. You did your best to fight off a vampire. That’s hard when you’re not the Slayer.”

“Or Dean Winchester, apparently. Man, I’ve never seen anyone but you fight like that!” There was a moment of silence at the other end of the line. “Did you, uh, work out whatever you were mad about? I don’t remember all of the yelling, but I gathered you were pissed at Dean.”

Here it was. Buffy took a deep breath and began. “No, I’m not mad at him. Not at all.” For a moment, she closed her eyes to savor the memory of his lips on her thighs. “Um, yeah, so he’s kind of why I’m calling.”

“Of course, you weren’t calling to check in on my battered self.”

Ignoring her oversight, she continued. “Look, I wanted to tell you that Dean and I are kind of… a thing. We’re thinging.” Silence. “Xander?”

“Sorry, I thought you had more to tell me. You and Dean hooking up just sort of seemed inevitable.”

“Well, you were so hurt when I didn’t tell you last time I…thinged.”

“Mostly because you were thinging with Spike.” This had been their dance for months. Bring up Spike. Say horrible things. Forgive each other. Bring up Spike.

“Don’t get me wrong, Buff, I like Dean. He seems like a good guy – or at least a hell of a lot better than most of your exes – but you’re moving pretty fast here. He’s been in town just over a week. What do you really know about him?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, thankful he couldn’t see her. “It’s not like we eloped. He’s here for four more weeks, and that’s it. It’s not all, ‘Tell me your dreams and secrets. By the way, do you like this color for the bathroom?’ I’m not looking for anything serious. I’ve had serious.”

“What are you looking for?”

Pacing her stairs, she said, “How about a memory with a guy that doesn’t hurt?”

“Which is all the more reason I want you to be careful.”

She could hear the genuine concern in his voice, which was exactly why she’d bothered to call him. Xander may be a busy body when it came to her love life, but with Willow still in England, he was the only person around to keep her head level.

He continued, “Dean and Sam came out of nowhere with this crazy story about angels and time travel. Yeah, parts of it are believable, but other parts we just have to take their word for. Tell me ten things you know to be true about Dean Winchester.”

“Xander–”

“Ten things.”

She giggled. “He’s gorgeous.”

“High School Buffy, please put Adult Buffy back on the phone. We’re not counting that one.”

“If I can tell you ten things, will you chill a little?”

“Maybe. I’m high-strung when it comes to your dating track record.”

“Okay, he doesn’t have a lot of family. Just Sam really. Their parents are dead.”

“Nope, you only have his word for that.”

“His word and tattoos. He has some memorial tattoos. One for his mom. One for his dad. He has a lot of tattoos.” She bit her lip and tried to picture all the ink on Dean’s naked body. Next time they hooked up, it was going to be somewhere with better lighting. She needed to take him all in.

“I’ll allow it then if you stop talking about his tattoos.”

“Cars. He’s a car nut. He loves that silly boat, and says all these confusing car things. He loves food. Burgers, beer, and pie especially.”

“Cars, food, booze. You just described most men. Next you’re going to tell me he likes porn.”

“Fine. Something that’s not all guys. He’s been fighting monsters for a long time, like since he was a kid. I know that’s just his word – or Sam’s actually, Dean doesn’t know he told me that – but you’ve seen him fight. He didn’t just pick that up. He likes guns, too. His car is full of them.”

“That’s all very comforting. Now I want to sleep with him.”

“You didn’t qualify what kind of facts; you just said ten. Ooh! He has terrible taste in music. 70s and 80s hair bands. Everytime he stakes a vamp, he hums ‘Dust in the Wind.’ So lame. I think he may have seen every old cowboy movie ever made. You should have heard him and Sam trading movie lines on patrol the other night. Couple of nerds. Between the music, the movies and the car, I could be convinced he’s actually from the past.”

“You’re up to eight. Keep going.”

Buffy bit her thumb and thought. They’d spent every evening together for the past week. They’d practically lived at her house for a couple days of research, yet she knew so little about him learning why he loved his car was a light-shedding epiphany. Sam was comparatively chatty. Dean was too good at avoiding questions, questions like _What’s this hand print branded on your shoulder?_ and _What do you enjoy in life?_ Did she know him at all?

Xander took her pause as surrender. “So he’s a gun-toting cowboy living on the edge of civilized society who likes his cars fast and his beer cold. Does he like his women frisky, because that’s where this is headed.”

“Stop being all judgy! It’s not like the last six months has been a gold star for your relationships.”

He let her punch pass him. “Buffy, I just want to make sure you have your eyes open here. You have a tendency to lose your head a bit when it comes to men.”

For years, she’d denied this, but her last fling made her come to terms with some of her weaknesses. She was so in love with Angel, she hadn’t considered the dangerous line she was walking with his soul. With Riley, she’d jumped head-first into helping a government organization that did not wish her well. And Spike… Dean had his share of red flags, the question dodging, outbursts of anger. Even so, he couldn’t possibly be more dangerous than the other men in her life had been, and he was on a timer to boot.

“I’m trying to avoid that. Tonight I’m taking Dawn out for another lesson in vampires. The boys have the day to themselves. Dean and I even worked out a patrol rotation so I could have more time with Dawn. I do listen to you occasionally. Don’t let it go to your head.”

* * *

 

By the time he returned to the motel, Dean had caffeinated and cooled off. Having actual clothes to wear didn’t hurt his mood either.

Still buried in research, Sam ignored his arrival.

Dean sat on the foot of this brother’s bed and tried to patch over the morning. “It’s already happening. Can’t change course now. Could you try to maybe be okay with it?”

Still annoyed, Sam put down his pen and pursed his lips. “If it means I won’t hear you jerking off in the shower every fucking day, I can try.”

“You’re a goddamn hero, Sammy.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean started pulling clean clothes out of his duffel and folding them neat enough for Marine inspection. “Xander called, by the way. Wanted to know if we’d like to come over for poker and pizza. I told him we’d bring beer.”

A couple hours later, Dean was counting his mountain of chips.

Xander winced. “What’s the damage? Tell me! I can take it!”

“If we were playing for cash, you’d owe me about thirty thousand right now. Want to go another round?” Dean couldn’t contain his smile. Xander with his goofy jokes and expressive face was possibly the most innocent person he’d ever met in the hunting world.

“Am I that bad or are you just crazy good at this?”

“Both,” said Sam. “You’re kind of an open book.”

“Really?” asked Xander with big puppy eyes. “I happen to be the best poker player of all the Scoobies. Of course, that’s not saying much seeing as Buffy can barely remember the names of the suits.”

Dean laughed. “Buffy playing poker? I bet that’s a riot.”

Xander raised his voice slightly. “‘Do I have anything if I have a red A and a couple flowery ones? I remember red As being bad.’”

The Winchesters howled at the image. After sniping at each other the last few days, it felt good to laugh together.

Still chuckling, Sam pushed himself off the floor and headed to the kitchen for another beer.

Xander said to Dean, “I can’t help but notice that you and Buffy are sort of dancing around each other. Is this more like the Chicken Dance, or is there a chance of that becoming a full-blown mambo?”

Dean shrugged and looked toward the kitchen. He liked the kid, but he wasn’t going to give him a window for his Buffy kink. “Sammy, are you grabbing one for everyone? We have to fix Xander’s margarita problem.”

Xander laid his cards on the table and idly squared them. “It’s not in my power to influence your decision or hers–”

“It ain’t your business either,” said Dean coolly.

“She’s one of my best friends. You can consider me a pest, but I’m going to watch her back no matter what. I don’t know if you’re right or wrong for Buffy. Just please, Dean, try to be worthy of her.” 

This was not the spiel he’d expected. “How could I even begin to do that? I ain’t worthy of no one, Xander, let alone her.”

“That’s a start.”

Sam returned with three bottles and something else. “Before you get beer, Xander, you have to explain this,” he said, holding up a pink ruffled apron.

Rather than laughing or even being embarrassed, Xander looked distant. “Anya kind of moved out in a hurry. You can throw that in the box by the front door. One of these days I’ll jump in the viper pit and take it to her place.“

“Anya?” Sam pointed at the floor. “You and Anya?” He wagged his finger between Xander and the space imaginary Anya occupied.

Dean bit his lips to stifle a laugh.

“You didn’t know? Anya and I were barreling toward marital bliss until I messed it all up, or saved us from making a huge mistake. Jury’s still out on that one. Thought Buffy might have mentioned it.”

“Or Anya,” muttered Sam as he plopped on the couch beside his brother.

“Buffy hasn’t said too much about you,” said Dean, tossing bottle caps on the chips and passing the beers around. “Said you and Willow are her best friends. Said you help around the house. Said Dawn thinks you’re the shit.”

Xander smiled sadly. “My shit status depends on if you’re asking Dawn or my parents.”

“So fill us in. Tell us about the ‘Scoobies,’” Sam said.

“Lack of Xander story hour is, no doubt, due to the fact that I’m not very interesting.” He grinned nervously. “Tried skateboarding in high school. Didn’t last very long. That’s why I dress like this.” He tugged at his green and blue paisley shirt. “Gives me otherwise lacking personality.”

“What about Willow?” Sam asked.

“Will? Oh, Will’s great. My best friend since kindergarten. Likes computers, books, girls.” He opened the empty poker box and started picking the cards off the coffee table.

Dean took a sip of his beer, letting Xander fermented in the silence. “Buffy said some of the Scoobies died.”

Xander dropped the stack of chips in his hand, scattering them on the floor. He kept his eyes focused on the table and whispered, “Tell me about possession.”

“What?”

“In whatever crazy, messed up world you came from, demons possess people, right? Crawl inside their bodies? Treat people like puppets?”

“Yeah…”

His eyes intense and sad, Xander asked, “How does it work?”

Flustered, Sam said, “Well, uh, demons don’t have their own bodies in our experience. They’re sort of a black smoke. They don’t have to ask permission to possess someone, but the people most susceptible to possession are emotionally compromised–”

“Their eyes turn black, right? That’s what Buffy told me.”

“When the demon shows itself,” said Dean.

“Is the possessed person conscious? Can she – or he – control themselves at all?”

Sam picked at the label on his beer. “Sort of and not really. If you’re possessed, you can see some of what’s happening, but you may be unconscious through stretches. You lose all track of time. As far as controlling yourself, there’s little chance of that. The demon is just using you. It takes a lot of power to overcome it even for a moment; even then it’s still in you.”

“Bobby did it,” Dean added.

“Yeah, and those few seconds of control almost killed him!”

Dean sipped his beer and looked out the window. Maybe Anya wasn’t lying about Willow, and if she was telling the truth about that… “Is that why Willow’s in England? She got possessed and freaked you guys out?” He squinted at Xander. “What did she do?”

Xander rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been wrapped up in this weirdo magical world since Buffy moved to town sophomore year. I’ve experienced animal spirits possessing people. A few times, I’ve seen a demon sort of remotely control a person, but never by entering them. Then Tara died and Willow went dark side.

“There were these nerds, you see. Thought of themselves as the Goldfinger to Buffy’s Bond, but in reality they were just pains in the ass. Warren, their leader, was a misogynistic bastard. After Buffy smashed his balls–”

Sam and Dean both recoiled in horror.

“No! No! They were mystic orbs that gave him super strength and invincibility!”

Dean slammed his beer on the table and shifted on the couch uncomfortably. “Damnit, Xander! Don’t put pictures like that in my head!”

“Sorry.” He picked two chips off the floor and rubbed them between his fingers. “Anyway, Warren came to Buffy’s house with a gun. She pushed me to safety and was shot as thanks. We didn’t realize it at the time, what with all the blood and the near dying, that some of his shots had gone wild. One went through the bedroom window and hit Tara, Willow’s girlfriend. She died in her arms.

“The thing you need to know about Willow is also probably why Buffy’s told you nothing about her. She’s not the meek, nerdy girl I knew in high school. Now she’s one of the most powerful witches in the world.”

“Didn’t seen that one comin’.”

“What kind of witch is she?” Sam asked.

“Uh, usually more Glinda, less Of The West. What kind of witches are there?”

Sam explained, “There are a rare few that are naturally gifted magic humans. Most borrow the power of a demon to enact magic. This relationship eventually requires human sacrifice. It gets ugly. I haven’t seen much about that in any of the reading I’ve done since we got to Sunnydale, though.”

“Granted, I’m not an expert, but I’ve never heard of witches needing a demon’s power. Willow was a natural, for sure.”

Dean pushed the conversation back on track. “So girlfriend dies and witchy Willow goes _Carrie_?”

“Yeah, when Tara died, Willow’s eyes went black. She was hellbent on revenge. She – she skinned Warren.”

“Skinned him?” It didn’t sound any better than ball-smashing.

“Like ripping off a bandage, only all the skin came with it. Saw it myself. I still see it in my nightmares.

“After that, she went after the other nerds. They weren’t horrible like Warren though. Warren was the murdering mastermind. Jonathan and Andrew were just lackeys with dreams of wealth and bikini models. Who doesn’t have that dream? We tried to stop Will. She threatened Dawn, beat up Buffy, nearly killed Giles. Then she thought the best way to end the pain was by destroying the world.

“She’s been at a coven in England with Giles for the past four months recovering and rehabbing. She’s terrified of herself and her capabilities.

“Does that sound like demon possession to you? Because nothing about it felt like my Willow.” Xander’s face was desperate but calm now that the secret was out.

Sam, no doubt consumed with the memories of his own possession, resumed picking at his bottle’s label.

Dean asked, “Willow tried to destroy the world; now she’s holded up across the Atlantic. What stopped her? If it was a demon, how did it get out of her?”

In a small voice, Xander said, “It was me.”

“You?” asked Dean. “How?”

“It wasn’t anything special. I just stood between her and the Spire of Satan she was using to amplify her mojo. I told that I loved her all the time no matter what she was doing, and that I wanted the honor of being one of her victims. I just kept repeating myself until she collapsed, crying and all the darkness left her. Giles took her away a few days later.”

The room sat in suffocating silence. Goofy, kind Xander had stood between his friend and the end of the world. He faced down death, then went back to picking up tacos and babysitting for Buffy as if he wasn’t a hero at all.

Eventually Dean offered a simple, “I don’t know.”

“It sounds similar to things we’ve seen,” added Sam, “which, I’m sorry, is refreshing. Some of the details are a little off though. I couldn’t tell you if a demon made her kill that guy or if Willow did it herself. I’d have to talk with her.”

“Buffy may be a little moony right now, but I doubt she’d let you near Willow without knowing your intentions.” Unflinching, Xander stared at Dean. “Are witches something you hunt? We don’t know anything about you, what you kill and why, and frankly, it worries me. The supernatural world is complicated at its easiest; tragic at its worst.” His voice carried a cold tone of threat. 

“It’s not all kittens and cotton candy where we’re from either,” said Dean sitting up. “Normally, we try to avoid witches. Damn near impossible to kill and scary as hell whether they’re a demon pawn or not.

“Sam, what was that thing Anya said about what Buffy hunts?”

“That she kills things without souls – vampires, demons and the like – when they’ve taken a human life.”

“That’s very noble sheriff-of-town sort of thinking, but I ain’t never had the time or the luxury to think about a monster’s soul. Having one don’t exactly keep a person out of Club Dickwad anyway. Like that Warren guy. Sounds to me like he got what was coming to him. Your girl’s gonna have to deal with that, hell, it may mess her up permanently, but she did the world a favor in the end.”

He picked a handful of chips off the floor and tossed them at Xander. “You in or out?”

“Out for sure. You’re too good for me.” He resumed putting the set away.

“Hey, Xander, you want to see the Batman movie that won’t be out until 2005?” Sam asked. “It’s on my laptop, but I think I could jerry-rig a projector. Throw it up on the wall.”

“Marry me! God, wrong response. Yes! Very super superhero yes.”

Sam snagged the keys to the Impala and left to retrieve his computer from the trunk.

Dean gathered the empty bottles and tossed them in the kitchen while Xander finished wiping out the traces of his loss. When the cards were away, Dean asked, “Any other bits of bad news we should know?”

“You’re not sticking around. Why complicate things and hurt people? Popcorn?”


End file.
